Moments Before The Island
by SpecialNewsBulletin
Summary: Collection of drabbles about the Castaways before they ever set sail on the SS Minnow.
1. Chapter 1

_Pennsylvania, 1947_

"Give me back my shooter!"

"I ain't got your shooter!"

The scrappy child with the mop of brown hair and serious blue eyes leapt up and tackled the redheaded freckle-faced Irish kid. They tumbled to the ground in a whirlwind of rage, kicking up dust. The redheaded kid took control of the tussle and shoved the scrapper to the ground.

"Say you're sorry," Skinny demanded, hovering a fist over the young boy's face.

"No. I'm not." The small scrapper jumped up and rubbed mud on Skinny's cheek.

"Aw, here's your dumb marble, Gilligan."

"That's Willy Gilligan to you."

-vvv-

_Kansas, 1958_

"Mary Ann, what in tarnation are you doing up here? Them chickens got out again. If you don't get them back in their pen I'm getting' out the shotgun and blasting them all."

The girl leapt off her perch in the windowseat of the old farmhouse, dropping the book she was reading.

"Sorry, Uncle George, I was…"

"You was nothing. Always got your nose in a book. Waste of dang time, that's what. _Little Women_. What do they know about butchering pigs?" He swatted Mary Ann on the rump.

"I'll mend the fence, Uncle George."

"Ya better, kid."

-vvv-

_Cleveland, 1960_

The young man stood in front of the classroom, trying to keep his hands from shaking. It was the first day of school.

"My…my name is Mr. Hinkley. Welcome to Biology II."

A young redhead in a sweater set eyed the handsome teacher, not paying much attention to what he was saying. She picked up her pen and began absentmindedly doodling hearts on her book.

"…dissection of large albino rats halfway through the term. Audrey?"

The young teacher looked at her sternly.

"Yes, Mr. Hinkley?"

"I must ask you to take this class quite seriously."

"Yes, Mr. Hinkley."

-vvv-

_Massachusetts, 1924_

The child opened the wooden crate that his sea captain uncle had sent him, pulling out the excelsior happily. The package contained a ship inside a glass bottle. It contained a note.

_Jonas, this was something I made on my South Seas voyage. Take good care of it. I will show you how to make one when I return._

"I'm going to put it on my shelf," the boy said proudly. "Someday I'll have a boat just like that, and we'll sail all over the Pacific."

"It's lovely, dear," his mother said. "But a sailor's life can be lonely."

-vvv-

_Long Island, 1941_

"Who's that gorgeous young creature?"

The young man looked over at the radiant young debutante, who was currently talking to a potential suitor at a table. She laughed heartily, taking occasional sips from her champagne glass.

"Eunice Wentworth," his sister said. "She's loaded."

"She's lovely," he replied, taking a sip from his own champagne glass. "I wish I could work up the nerve to speak to her. She looks like an angel."

Almost as if on cue, said angel stood up and walked toward the young man, making eye contact with him.

"Hello," she said, with a Vassar accent.

-vvv-

_Hollywood, 1959_

"A little to your left, sweetheart," the megaphone bawled, as the starlet positioned herself above a papier mache volcano.

"You're offering yourself as a virgin sacrifice to the volcano god," the director said, mopping his brow."

"The volcano god will never believe THAT," the assistant director muttered, gazing at the animal print bathing suit swaddling the statuesque glamazon with the Titian hair.

"I heard that," she replied, batting her eyelashes. "Guess I'll have to take my chances, huh, Roger?"

A whistle blew. "CUT," the director said.

"We haven't been filming yet," replied the cameraman, sighing heavily at Ginger Grant.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hollywood, 1939_

"Name?"

"Grant."

"And what does the kid do, ma'am?"

The lady looked down at her young daughter: a halo of red hair crowning her head, angelic green eyes, a smile eager to please.

"She sings a bit, tap dances, does a routine with a baton. I made her little dress," the lady replied proudly.

"We have costume designers already, lady. Alright kid, get over there and do your thing. You got her music?" the man said impatiently, chomping on a cigar. The mother handed it to him. He swore impatiently.

"_Yankee Doodle Dandy_? You gotta be kidding me."

-vvv-

_Massachusetts, 1939_

"Aw, come on, Lizzie," the young man said impatiently, as he hovered next to his date. They were perched on the bank of the Charles River, watching a small display of fireworks, but the young lady was refusing to cooperate.

"My old man says he'll kill me if he knows I'm out with you," she said. "He already thinks I went out with the girls for ice cream."

"Would it help if I said I love you?"

"No," she replied.

"I'm joining the Navy soon," he replied. "Just one kiss?"

"Alright," she relented. "Don't smudge my lipstick."

-vvv-

_Cleveland, 1946_

"Did you know the earliest documentation of fireworks dates back to seventh century China? The Emperor Huizong of Song enjoyed their entertainment. The Arabs acquired knowledge of fireworks from China in the 1200s, and from there their popularity soared across Eurasia and finally Europe. There are whole passages written in the 17th century about the beauty of fireworks."

The young man's date sighed next to him on the swing, bored out of her mind. She wished she would feel fireworks instead of getting a history lesson.

"Aren't you going to kiss me?"

"Kiss you?" he asked absently.

-vvv-

_Kansas, 1950_

"Daddy, may I please have a nickel for the Ferris wheel?"

The man handed her three nickels and told her not to lose them. She grinned, reached up and hugged him.

"Thank you," she said, knowing how hard it was for him to scrape together any money they had. The county fair was their only vacation during the year from farm life, and the child looked forward to it every year. The bustling crowds, the smell of popcorn and candyfloss spinners, the marching bands.

"Go have a good time," he said.

His wife nudged him. "Stop spoiling her."

-vvv-

Long Island, 1950

"Dear, where is my sash?"

"I don't know, Lovey," her husband replied absently, pouring a fifth of whiskey into a flask. He looked up. "Darling, it's on the chair, plain as day. I don't know how you managed to miss all those sequins."

The pair were headed to a DAR meeting, where Eunice "Lovey" Wentworth was the keynote speaker. A maid entered the room.

"There's someone to see you, Mrs. Howell. A Miss Barrington."

"Oh, Pinky is here!" the lady clapped. "Bring her up, Lucy."

Mr. Howell took a sip from his flask and sighed heavily.

-vvv-

_Pennsylvania, 1947_

The young boy was sitting in the park with his siblings, but he didn't feel very social. Picnics weren't his thing. The fireworks went off, and he liked each explosion, but he was getting tired of his mother pointing out details of every firework that happened, and he was tired of his sister picking on him. He walked over to the oak tree. His dog, Rusty, followed him. Rusty was old and deaf and the explosions didn't bother him anymore.

"Here, boy," he motioned, sitting underneath the branches. The dog curled up slowly and lay at his feet.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hollywood, 1940_

"This scene is terrible, Trixie," the director shouted. He turned to the child's mother. "Get your dumb kid to stop crying, will ya?"

The mother walked over to the child and threatened to lock her in the closet and leave her there when they got home. The girl began to bawl.

"Ah, that's too much," the director complained. "Can't work with her. Get her outta here. Ginger Grant, where are you?"

"Here," the child replied, smoothing out her dress.

"You know your lines?"

"Yeah."

"You know hers?"

"Yes."

"Alright, you're taking over her part."

Ginger nailed the scene.

-vvv-

_Kansas, 1947_

The child in the gingham dress and pigtails flew out of the barn towards her father, her hands flopping in the air like mad.

"Daddy, the piglets are being born!"

"Already?" he asked, wiping sweat from his brow. "I wasn't expecting them for another –" His face went white with dismay.

He walked into the barn to find three of them dead already, and the other nearly there.

"DAMMIT," he shouted in utter dismay - not for the dead piglets, but for the lost income they were depending on for the meat that year.

The child hugged her weeping father.

-vvv-

_Cleveland, 1935_

"We aren't really sure what to do with him," said Mrs. Hinkley. "He learned how to read at two and he's much too advanced for the first grade at this point."

The principal scoffed. "I've heard it all before, lady, your kid's a genius. Right, put him in…" She looked down at the serious-faced little boy sitting in front of her on the chair, quietly reading _Captains Courageous._

"You mean to tell me you can read that?" the gentleman asked. "Read me a passage."

The child looked up, scowling. "I'm at the best part," he reluctantly grumbled.

-vvv-

_Massachusetts, 1930_

The young boy looked up from his book at his father looming over him.

"Get up, Jonas," the man commanded. The boy obeyed, getting hit in the face as a result. "You worthless scum. I told you to tell me where your mother hid the key. WHERE IS IT?" The man grabbed the boy's shirt collar and twisted it in an attempt to choke it out of him.

"Ice…box…" came the reply, knowing it would buy him exactly five minutes to leave before his father unlocked the liquour cabinet. Jonas tore off for his Grandpa's.

-vvv-

_Long Island, 1945_

"There are several causes for this, which I believe is psychologically based on Freud's findings," the analyst said. "From what you've said, it seems you have a domineering mother, a submissive father. You were repulsed by your physiological development during puberty. You were weaned too early, and your mother had you too late in life for normal rearing."

"Yes, doctor, but…"

"Those factors corrupt normal operation of female hormones, hindering your ability to procreate, Mrs. Howell."

Her husband clutched her hand in dismay.

"Psychoanalysis can cure you of this," the doctor said, lighting a cigar.

-vvv-

_Pennsylvania, 1948_

"Gilligan!" shouted the coach. The lad ran over to him, tripping over his shoelaces, nearly stumbling into the man.

"Yes, Coach Wilson?"

The man blew a whistle at two teens currently horsing around under the bleachers.

"Gilligan, we're going to have to cut you. I know you worked hard, but Nickelson is a better third baseman."

The boy hung his head. The coach's heart melted. He knew how much the kid wanted to play this year.

"Hey, no hard feelings," he said, patting Gilligan on the shoulder. "You can be bat boy."

"Alright, Coach," he said, smiling.


End file.
